


Devious as Nerves

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Finntrospection, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mathom, OTP Feels, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Stakeout, the word for world is forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 15:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14621286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: "You sayI'mthe horny kid?" Finn asks, sitting back on his heels to pull his jumper over his head. "Hello.""Youarethe horny kid," Poe says and nods. "I'm the horny old man, get it right.""Yeah, gramps, all right--"They've been living in this tree for almost six weeks. They have to keep busysomehow.





	Devious as Nerves

**Author's Note:**

> Mathom for my birthday and fandom anniversary ♥ 
> 
> I've posted bits of this here and there, and the image of Poe rushing to a newly-wakened Finn is actually Orchis's (adapted here for post-TLJ conformity).

> _No way was clear, no light unbroken, in the forest. Into wind, water, sunlight, starlight, there always entered leaf and branch, bole and root, the shadowy, the complex. Little paths ran under the branches, around the boles, over the roots; they did not go straight, but yielded to every obstacle, devious as nerves. The ground was not dry and solid but damp and rather springy, product of the collaboration of living things with the long, elaborate death of leaves and trees..._  
>  \-- Ursula K. LeGuin, _The Word for World Is Forest_

  
Finn's first barracks had walls of white metal on all sides. Their bunks were extruded metal, the same glaring white, four bunks tall. Later, he lived in an old Imperial carrier's crew quarters, 88 troopers to a room in double-tall bunks in four rows.

He has never been alone, not until Jakku.

He blinks away the memories of glare--of white, and chrome, and, finally, desert--and comes back to himself. Poe's crouched there, one knee bent up against his chest, his arm around his shin, and he tilts his head, eyes searching Finn's face. 

He must see something there, something good or hint of it, because he grins suddenly. 

Every time Poe smiles at him, it's like the second time. (The first time registered, too, of course, but anyone would smile at the mention of rescue.) It's the second time that mattered, because it meant Poe knew him, was happy to see him alive, wanted him there. The second time, Poe's smile leapt and shone, landed heavy and certain, as reassuring as his hand on Finn's shoulder. Just like that hand, Poe's smile drew him in close, wouldn't let him wiggle away.

"Hey, pal," Poe says now. "Everything go okay?"

"Yeah," Finn replies. "Just fine."

He crawls the rest of the way into their lean-to and turns to lash the flap shut before working the straps of his pack off his shoulders. The resupply pack thuds to the floor.

They've been living in this tree for almost six weeks. This moon, called Jakschey on older charts, orbits just close enough to a First Order comms relay station that traffic can be monitored. Not easily, since the Order patrols the moon with drones looking for any electronic signatures, but it can be done. BB-8's keeping them cloaked and recording all the traffic. He claims they're his bodyguards, and he's not far off, though they're also here to interpret any anomalies that might get kicked up. The moon, however, is 70% sea, 30% forest, and the only thing keeping them alive are these biweekly supply drops from unmanned flights.

"Joy of joys, we get more protein bars!" Poe sets those aside and keeps digging in the pack. they're all the same, have been for two months, but Poe treats every resupply pick-up like a birthday. "Hey, hey, beza nut milk, can't get enough of _that_ swill."

He pauses, hands deep in the pack, and looks up at Finn. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Thinking, sorry," Finn tells him, peeling off his rain slicker and hanging it by their combination heater-cooker. BB-8 beeps softly at him when the drips hit his head dome. "Sorry, buddy. It's wet out there."

BB-8 says something that might as well be "tell me something I don't know", which is fair. It rains every day here, usually in the afternoon, sometimes lasting all night. The sound of it is constant, a low patter that you can forget about for hours at a time. Then the wind will change direction slightly and suddenly all you hear is the rain hitting the leaves all over the forest, millions on millions of impacts and shivers. Droplets on leaves, streams twining around vines, clouds breaking apart into constituent elements, sinking down with the roots.

Thinking about it is like looking down when climbing: best not to.

"Want to share?" Poe asks.

"Not hungry."

"No, want to share what you're thinking about? No way am I sharing these protein bars, they are way too tasteless and mushy for the likes of you." Poe pauses and reaches for Finn's hand. His is dry and warm, and soon he's chafing Finn's hand between both of his. "That's reverse psychology, by the way. Is it working?"

"No, not really." Finn leans against Poe so he can get his over-trousers off. He's getting rain everywhere. "Those bars are terrible, but there's worse out there."

"The hell you say," Poe says, arm going around Finn's waist to support him. "I refuse to believe such tales of terror."

"Rathtar shells, ground up, in a paste."

"No."

"Yes. How about stick-bug larvae?"

"Vile anti-First Order propaganda, impossible," Poe says. He kisses the side of Finn's neck. His mouth is hot on Finn's rain-chilled skin, hotter than usual, and Finn doesn't bother repressing the full-body shiver the contact induces. Poe tightens his hold and he's there, waiting, smiling, when Finn turns to face him and kiss him for real. 

Their noses bump a little, and Poe's beard scrapes before Finn shifts the angle, but soon enough the kiss is deepening and Poe's starting to murmur and move against Finn.

"You say _I'm_ the horny kid?" Finn asks, sitting back on his heels to pull his jumper over his head. "Hello."

"You _are_ the horny kid," Poe says and nods. "I'm the horny old man, get it right."

"Yeah, gramps, all right--" Finn squeezes Poe's hips and nudges him back until he's reclining, kicking out one leg and trying to pull Finn closer. Finn remains braced on his hands above him, smiling down; the longer he looks at Poe, the more Poe wriggles and shimmies, trying either to seduce Finn or work off excess erotic energy. Possibly both.

"C' _mon_ ," Poe finally says, plucking at Finn's jersey, grunting a little.

"You look good like this, let me enjoy."

"I feel good like this," Poe says, working his hand under Finn's jersey to stroke his belly, the side of his ribs, one pectoral and nipple. "Let me help you enjoy _more_ \--" He waggles his eyebrows and licks his lips outrageously, and Finn _knows_ he's being silly on purpose, but it's still sexy, it's still heating Finn up from the inside out, still making him breathless.

He kisses Poe again, hauling him up with one arm around Poe's neck, hand buried in Poe's hair. They're both sorely in need of haircuts (and shaves, and real food, and, and), but somehow Poe looks both messy and intense with his hair long and beard racing to catch up.

Poe slides up until he's sitting up a little, leg wrapped around the back of Finn's thighs, mouth pressed to Finn's. 

Finn still can't breathe. He's flying inside his own body, long past any clutch of gravity; he wants Poe wrapped around him, every pore pressed to his own, kissing as deeply as their mouths are.

He's chuckling now and has to bury his face against Poe's neck until the laughter subsides.

"I'm a pretty funny guy," Poe whispers, "not to mention funny-looking. But I don't remember making a joke...?"

"It's me," Finn says, kissing along the edge of Poe's beard, then resting his mouth at the hollow at the base of Poe's throat. "I'm ridiculous. I'm--"

"Ridiculously great, I agree, glad you came around," Poe says urgently, digging below Finn's waistband at the small of his back to drag Finn closer. "you are.'

"Shut up," Finn says without much heat. "I'm--. forget it."

"No, man, say it." Poe doesn't let go, but he does scoot a little ways back to lean against the tree. Finn follows him, crawling forward on his knees, kissing him again when he's back in reach.

Kissing makes sense. He kisses Poe because he likes it, because they feel good together, make each other feel good. Kissing, he can do, and does, as often as he can.

Kissing, he doesn't have to put into words.

"Tell me," Poe whispers eventually, however, turning onto his side, keeping his arm around Finn's neck. He mock-shoves at Finn's shoulder, then, when Finn doesn't reply, lightly butts his head against Finn's chest. "Come on, I'm good at secrets."

"Yeah, you are," Finn says. He twists a lock of Poe's hair around his index finger, then releases it, watches it spring free. "I don't know what to say."

"Whatever you want, I'm all ears."

"Yeah," Finn agrees, "you--." He stops, bites his lip when Poe looks up at him, his cheeks above the beard flushed, his eyes dark. "Fuck." He swallows, clears his throat, then swallows again. "You look great."

Poe bats his eyelashes but doesn't make a joke. In fact, when he replies, he sounds almost as nervous as Finn feels. "Thanks."

"I--" Finn traces the line of Poe's jaw, up to his ear, then down his neck. He still feels breathless; he always feels breathless, honestly. "I can't catch my breath--" When Poe starts to frown, Finn shakes his head quickly. "Not around you."

Poe's frown slips off his face, leaving something far softer, inexpressible, in its wake. "Oh. Oh, hey."

"And I don't want to?" Finn shakes his head again. "Not a question. Statement. I don't want to."

"No breathing! Hyperventilation, hypoxia.... okay, sorry, I'm done." Poe struggles up onto one elbow and knocks his forehead gently, but repeatedly, against Finn's shoulder. "Finn, man. _Finn_."

"Present," Finn says, parting Poe's hair on the other side, finger-combing out locks and ringlets. "Right here."

Finn's never been alone, not physically. 

But it wasn't until he watched the TIE sink beneath the sands and heard the howl ripped out his mouth, that he realized he didn't want to be _lonely_ any longer. He'd always been like this! Surrounded by people, buffeted by orders and expectations, but intensely, perfectly alone within his mind.

"I'm not going anywhere," he tells Poe and slips down so they're face to face, his arm going around Poe's waist. "I don't want to."

"Good," Poe breathes, working himself under Finn, pulling Finn the rest of the way on top of him. "You should swear on something, though. Just to make it official."

BB-8 gurbles a suggestion.

"Good idea," Poe tells it, then, to Finn, says, "Resistance oath, that's what he says, but I've got a better one."

"Hell," Finn says, pushing up on his hands as Poe wiggles and shudders, getting his trousers open and pushed down his hips. "Poe--"

"Ta-da," Poe says, taking out his dick. He's fully hard, his thumb flicking through pre-cum, as he looks up at Finn, smirking. "Swear on me, buddy. You know you want to."

"Freak," Finn tells him, but Poe's working open Finn's trousers now, and reaching inside, and then Poe's cock is riding the crease of Finn's thigh as Finn fills Poe's hand and jumps. "Poe--"

Poe kisses him, arching his back and locking a leg around Finn's. "Here, right here."

Finn's still thinking, still sorting out loneliness versus _Poe_ , still cataloging the variety of meanings he's ascribed to Poe's smiles, still tasting the depths of his mouth and fucking his fist really hard. He's still working, thinking, sorting, but he's also flying higher yet, plastered to Poe, grinding down and clutching tight.

Poe groans in complaint when Finn pulls away, out of his grasp. The sound goes higher when Finn slides down so he can get his mouth on Poe's dick. "Finn, you--'

Finn looks up, watches Poe fight to sit a little way up and look down. Poe's chest is heaving, his lips are swollen and dark. His head falls back, immediately, just perfectly, when Finn wraps his lips around the head of his cock. 

Poe tastes wild and familiar at the same time, intense and thrilling. Super-heated, tender skin over marble. Finn's mouth fits itself around the shaft, tongue lapping, lips locking, and welcomes itself home.

He can't see much any more, just the dark swell of Poe's dick, thatch of black hair. He swallows a couple times, pushing forward until his throat finally opens, and then Poe's shouting, his ass pushing off the floor and sticky hand grabbing at Finn (shoulder, cheek, ear, finally hair). When he goes still, the muscles in the thigh Finn can see lock and stand out like bowstrings. Finn takes his time, despite the urgency of Poe's touch and voice; he studies each moment and memorizes each throb and twitch, even as he's overcome with heat and need. He thinks he might be grinding against the seam in his trousers.

The sound Poe finally lets loose is ragged, fervently hungry. He pumps his hips a couple times, fingers opening and closing on Finn's hair in belated echo, before filling Finn's throat and mouth.

Finn swallows, and again. He sucks in air through his nostrils until his vision clears. When he looks up, Poe reaches for him.

Poe's hair's a mess, his breathing's rough, his lids heavy and face sweaty. But he kisses Finn anyway like it's the only thing to do. Both hands on Finn's face, thumbs tucked under Finn's chin. Gradually, their breaths slow and Poe rolls his forehead against Finn's.

"You want some help?" Poe whispers, one hand straying down Finn's chest.

"Yeah," Finn tells him, rising on his knees, pushing into Poe's unerring grasp again, "please."

The way Poe touches him, so sure and eager, _energetic_ , startles Finn every time. It's not simply that Poe knows what to do ( _in so many ways!_ , he'd probably say, _from so many different and intriguing angles!_ ), not that he does it so well, but that he's so excited about it. His breath is thundering into their kiss, his mouth sliding messily across Finn's; when he twists his hand, he grins, like it feels good for him, too. He pushes Finn back against the damp trunk and bites the side of his neck as punctuation to grunted little urging words: "let. Go. Come. For me. Let go, _yeah_."

Finn comes, surging upward, then sagging down, and down, and Poe follows, kissing him again, wringing the last few agonizing drops. He pulls out of the kiss to lick his hand clean, suck each finger, eyes on Finn the whole time.

BB-8 says something.

"Yeah, yeah, we're just about done," Poe says. To Finn, he adds, "cranky judgmental droid says bedtime for the sloppy meatsacks."

BB-8 lets out a series of chuckles that make Poe grimace, but he doesn't translate those.

The first time he saw Poe after he'd woken up, Finn remembers thinking, _well, shit, he really **is** that good-looking_. As if he'd spent his time in the coma doubting his own memory. As if he'd been waiting for this moment, but simultaneously trying to modulate his expectations. Trim down his hope.

Whatever Finn's mind had been trying to do, that all flew out the window when Poe barrelled down the passage, the arms and torso of his flight suit flapping behind him. His face was flushed, hair damp and spattered with sweat, sticking to his forehead and cheeks like it had been drawn on. As he skidded to a stop and looked around, his mouth was half open, like he was in the middle of saying something. Making an important announcement.

BB-8 beeped then, and Poe's focus sharpened as it found Finn.

Finn wipes himself clean now and hands the towel to Poe, trading it for the tooth-cleaner.

"You all right?"

"I'm good," Finn tells him. "I'm great. Not a single complaint."

Poe frowns a little as he kneels and leans in to help Finn shake out the bedroll. "You got weird standards, man."

"Yeah, I do." Finn reaches over to close his hand around the back of Poe's neck and drags him forward into a kiss. 

Poe makes a grunting 'oof' as he falls a little, catching himself on his good hand. None of that slows him down; he's kissing Finn back almost instantly.

He pulls back a little, breathing hard. "You sure you're all right?"

"Nah, must be I'm delirious or something," Finn says and twists his fingers in the back of Poe's hair, tugging gently, "because it sounds like you're complaining about making out some more."

Poe pushes ineffectually at Finn's shoulder. "I'm not complaining! Far from it. I was just, you know." He heaves out a big sigh, which breaks warm and damp across Finn's kiss-tingling mouth. "Making sure."

"I'm good," Finn tells him again, kissing Poe's stubbly cheek right where the beard starts, wandering toward his mouth. Just before he gets there, he adds, "I'm good, I'm great, I'm grand."

The rain quickens over them, around them, millions of drops in motion as they lie still and quiet in the dark. Finn finds Poe's hand and squeezes it.


End file.
